by Wayne Meyers
After two weeks, I had mastered the buoyancy technique and opened the doorway to using my chi for anything I desired. The pouch flew through the air without a single pop-pepper shell rustling. My fingertips tingled whenever I did so.
I couldn’t wait to show the High-Master.
Chapter Twenty—Tree Claw
Amere apprentice does not simply demand an audience with their High-Master and expect it to be granted. Master Voralius applauded my success with the bean pouch but deferred a demonstration to High-Master Chendor for another time. It seemed the High-Master’s attention was diverted upon weightier matters. In fact, all the masters appeared in a poor mood, but Master Voralius would reveal nothing. When I asked what had happened with the captive they had taken prisoner, he simply said the man was no longer with us, and declined to elaborate further.
“It’s maddening, Spaldeer,” I vented. “They put me in the middle of some kind of conspiracy where Babette’s life is at risk, then slam the door in my face.”
Spaldeer stifled a yawn. “You well know they wish to shield us from such weighty matters. Why fret?”
My face flushed. “Because I want to help. I was in the middle of it, even if I did bungle the whole book thing. Had they told me their plan, I’m sure I wouldn’t have given anything away.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sure enough to risk Babette’s life?”
Frowning, I looked away. “They don’t tell us anything. Nothing about the keys, the seamstress, the warmakers.”
Spaldeer chuckled at my angst. “No, they just train you like mad and prepare you for a future when I’m certain you’ll have your fill of crimes and conspiracies. Really, altbrud, what good would it do now? You must learn to curb your impatience and indignity. A time and a place. A time and a place.”
Pulling the blanket over my head with a humph, I said no more about it. It didn’t help that Spaldeer was right, as usual. Still, there was more to life than common sense. Perhaps that is why we had become such friends, for my fancy balanced against his logic and made both of us better people. Or, perhaps I was simply a pain in his arse he put up with because for some odd reason, he liked me. Either way, I resolved to put these things from my mind and focus on my training, instead. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.
The next morning after mastering buoyancy Master Voralius did not bring me back to the pits. Instead, we walked for a while, past the special training building, beyond the end of Apprentice Avenue, onto a hard-packed dirt trail that wound through brush and between trees.
“Master, where are you taking me today?” I finally asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.
He walked in front of me with his hands clasped behind his back, whistling, and ignored me.
Gritting my teeth, I ducked beneath a low-hanging branch and almost tripped over a protruding stump. Birds of all colors screeched at us as they took to wing in a rainbow of motion. The tang of pine blended with the sweet scent of crushed flower petals from beneath our feet. A nest of forest mice scurried into the deeper brush on either side of the trail.
Eventually we reached an open space at the southernmost point of our guild that butted up against the Great Wall. The clearing here was filled with grass or weed-covered mounds making walking treacherous, but my eyes were fixated ahead. With something akin to reverence, I ran up to the Wall around the obstacles and pressed my fingertips against it, my neck arching backward as my eyes strained to find the top. The wall itself felt oddly cool and flexible although it was as rigid as a bar of iron. I had never touched anything of its like. Exultation surged through me. This was the actual Great Wall itself my hands were on! The vast barrier defined Bellisprodus and protected us from the fearsome outerworlders. Somewhere on the other side of this section Founder’s Ocean must splash against it, though I could not hear the lapping of waves, or anything else for that matter. It was as if the universe ended here.
Master Voralius cleared his throat after a few minutes. “At the finish of the day, it’s just a wall, Apprentice. Now come with me.”
Stroking the odd material that made up the outermost skin of the Wall one more time, I heaved a sigh before turning away to hurry after him. He had stopped at the edge of the clearing and was inspecting the trees around it, circling them slowly while holding his hand against the bark much as I had just touched the Wall.
After searching around a bit, Master Voralius found one he liked and bade me stand in my training stance before it. Dutifully I spread my legs wide apart and lowered my torso before the tree of his choice. It was a short tree with a trunk about as wide around as a barrel. Heavy branches sprawled out above my head spreading about a cover of pale-green arrowhead-shaped leaves above me. The bark looked tough, thick, and gnarly. My nose wrinkled from an unfamiliar earthy odor, something that reminded me of cloves and ginger mixed with honey.
Master Voralius stood next to me. “This is the apacia tree. The bark is strong and supple and contains a numbing agent that will decrease the amount of sensation in your hands.”
A strong foreboding coursed through me at this revelation. “Does that fact bear any relevancy to this particular exercise, Master?”
He laughed, putting his hands on his hips. “You are a perceptive one. Yes, it is a very good thing for you are going to remove all the bark from this tree.”
That didn’t sound so bad. “Very well, Master. Where is my hatchet?”
Master Voralius laughed harder. “They are attached to your arms. Have at it.”
My jaw dropped, and I searched his face for the remotest sign of humor. His sober face convinced me there was none to be had, and my stomach dropped. I turned back toward the tree, letting my fingertips rub against the hard, splintery material. I was unable to envision how a person could remove tree bark with their fingers.
“Watch.” He walked over to the tree, smiling, and lashed out with his arm. His fingertips sank deep within the bark, up to the first knuckles, after which he pulled his arm away, grasping a handful of bark. The fist-sized opening bared a patch of pale wood, spongy in texture. An opaque fluid trickled from the rent in the bark and pooled at the bottom of the tear.
I thought about what such an action could do to a human body and shuddered. “That was amazing, Master.”
He bowed his head and turned away. “Rub the secretions into your hands and work from where I started it for you. You will be finished with this phase of the training when you’ve stripped all bark that is within your extended reach.”
“Yes, Master.” I stared at the tree for a while as his footsteps faded, settling into my wide-legged stance. What he had demonstrated didn’t seem possible, yet it had happened before my eyes. If someone had told me I could leap like a grasshopper before my buoyancy training started, I’d have laughed at them too. Taking a deep breath, I remembered my chi and massaged the oozing sap between my fingers and palms.
My hands became numb within a heartbeat. Well, that is probably a good thing, I thought, and took hold of one section of bark where Master Voralius had ripped it away. Tugging hard at the jagged edge, the bark would not budge, as though it were glued onto the tree. My teeth ground together as I tried using the fingers from both hands. Sweat poured down my face and neck, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not separate any bark from the tree. I even focused on my chi and could feel my pressure against the tree increase, but the stubborn bark would not give way.
Pausing to catch my breath, I noticed my fingertips were bright red though I could feel nothing to explain why. When I peered closer at the tree, I noticed the bark was not only tough and resilient but covered with a fine mist of tiny burrs. By pressing my wrist to the bark, I could feel something akin to thousands of tiny needles pricking my skin. A moment later the pain in my wrist disappeared. A fine drop of sap dribbled down my arm toward the inside of my elbow, numbing the skin it touched along the way.
My stubbornness and temper both ignited. Throwing myself at the tree in earnest I grabbed hold of the edge
of bark with all my body’s strength and weight, my feet pressed against the tree trunk while I clung to the bark’s edge, pulling for all I was worth. This, too, accomplished nothing other than to wind me and add more sweat to the collection pooling down my back and beneath my armpits.
Furious, I lashed out with my fist and from the sound of impact nearly broke my knuckles. With an effort and gulp of air I managed to suppress my rage, fearful of doing severe damage to my hands in this numbed state.
After taking several deeper breaths to calm myself, I decided a less direct method would be in order. Recalling how Master Voralius had approached this, I jabbed at the bark with my fingertips.
To my surprise, this focused approach caused the bark to give way the tiniest bit, so I continued jabbing. After several minutes of dotting my fingertips into the trunk I could see a slight depression within the bark. Thus encouraged, I had at it in earnest and peppered the trunk with finger strikes.
After a while I noticed my fingers swelling and paused to take stock of the situation. It was here when Master Voralius returned to survey my work.
“Very good, Apprentice. There are two approaches to this task, and you’ve uncovered the first. The second is this.” He slipped his fingers beneath the edge of the bark by pushing into the spongy trunk beneath, and by hooking them outward, tore away a small piece of bark.
I made one attempt at this, but my fingers could not push into the under bark as his had.
He held up a hand to stop me from trying again. “Continue what you’re doing. The jabbing will wear away the bark eventually while strengthening your fingers. In a week’s time, try the second method. Once you’re able to succeed in that manner, alternate between both.”
As usual, I was full of questions. “How long will it take me to master this?”
He shrugged while offering me a bland smile. “As long as it takes.”
“How long did it take you?”
Here Master Voralius’ eyes glazed as he contemplated my question. “It’s been a very long time, Apprentice, and many other techniques were studied after. Perhaps a few months.”
This piqued my curiosity further. “What other techniques have you learned? All of them?”
He laughed. “There is more to learn than any one person could in a lifetime.”
“So how do you decide which ones to train for?”
“Your masters decide, not you, and we base our judgements on your capabilities and temperament.”
“Temperament?”
He stood quietly with his hands on his hips as though challenging me.
Realizing he wasn’t going to answer the question, I tried a different one. Or two. “What is this technique called? What is it for?”
Master Voralius held one hand up straight as a spear and turned it about. “This is called the tree claw technique and its purpose is the same as everything else you will learn here, to protect your life. It will put great strength into your hands and fingers, enabling you to quickly end a fight provided you are able to break through your opponent’s defenses and reach them.”
My eyes widened as I held up my own hands and stared at them as though they were two large bugs.
“Return to your regular class now but rub this on your hands every hour or so. It will hurt worst the first few weeks.” He handed me a glass cruse that I slipped into my belt pouch.
“Thank you, Master.” I bowed and turned toward the dirt path that had brought me here.
“And, Hofen.”
I stopped to look at him.
His voice took on a stern tone I’d never before heard him use that sent shivers up my spine. “This technique must only be applied when absolutely needed. If you accidentally injure a fellow student or citizen, it will not go well for you.”
Another head bow to indicate my understanding, and I resumed my walk. After a few paces inspiration struck me, and I glanced back over my shoulder to acknowledge he had just answered my question about temperament after all. They would not teach a technique unless the student’s nature could be trusted not to abuse it.
Only, Master Voralius no longer stood there, nor could I see any trace of his passing.
Chapter Twenty-One—Interrupted Confession
The itching began an hour or so later after I joined my regular class. Wohl—Journeyman Wohl now—had us paired off practicing redirection techniques. One would strike ten times while the other diverted the blow around their body, and then we’d switch roles. To make it interesting, he walked around with a stick and swiped at our legs from behind.
“Always sense your surroundings,” Journeyman Wohl barked, slipping from one row of students to the next as swift as a snake. The stick hit an apprentice in the calf and he stumbled, allowing his partner to strike him hard in the chest. “You never know from which direction an attack may come.”
Strange to say, but I knew when he was behind me although he made no sound and I did not turn my head. My stance tightened to absorb the impact as my palm extended toward my partner, who was punching at me in rapid succession, and sent his hand off past my shoulder.
Talio grunted, his dark face mixed between admiration and envy. “You never miss one punch, even when he hits you. How do you do it?”
My shoulders shrugged as we switched roles and I began punching, ticking off strikes in my head as I replied. “Don’t know. It just happens that way.”
His voice took on a sour note as my fourth strike, an uppercut, caught him lightly in the belly. “Well, I wish it would happen to me.”
Journeyman Wohl smacked the stick against his palm. “Switch.”
With a little bow to each other we turned to our right and resumed with a new partner. This process made certain we were each exposed to a wide variety of body types, heights, and skills. My eyes widened when I saw my new partner was Babette.
“Hi, Hofen,” she said. Her eyes sparkled, though her expression remained bland.
How those eyes stirred strange feelings within me! Still, I maintained my own neutral face as we automatically began the drill. Through practice and effort, I always managed to make certain my feelings for her would never be seen by any observer, and we were always surrounded by someone. Usually, many someones. How was I ever going to convince her we could be together when I couldn’t even find time to tell her how much I liked her? Still, I had to do something.
“Hi yourself,” I replied, punching faster than normal. Odd. My fingers and hands had started tingling as though they were asleep.
She deflected each blow with her thin, muscular arms without any apparent effort. “You’re looking well, today.”
“And you are looking especially beautiful,” I blurted. My cheeks reddened. Where had that come from?
Her head tilted. “Oh? Flattery from my fellow apprentice? Not appropriate.”
She launched punches at me like stones from a slingshot, but I caught each one. Confidence swelled within my chest. Here was my chance to convince her we needed to be more than brothers. “I’m afraid being appropriate is not working for me.”
Journeyman Wohl’s stick caught my legs with a painful suddenness that made me yelp. “Got you that time, Hofen,” he gloated.
Babette laughed as I rubbed the back of my legs. “Well, I think that was a timely comeuppance, don’t you, dear?”
My stony expression twitched as I began punching again. “Be serious, won’t you? I’m trying to tell you something.”
“And I’m trying to stop you.”
“Why?”
She started punching harder than ever. “Because you have too much to lose.”
“Isn’t that up to me to decide?”
“No.”
It dawned on me then, dull as I was. “You do like me.”
“Your turn.” Her face was turning redder than mine felt.
“But that’s perfect. I like you, too. Pretending otherwise…isn’t enough.”
“We don’t have a choice. There can’t be any more than this.”
&
nbsp; It was time for me to convince her otherwise, though I can’t say where the words came from. They just flew to my tongue as mysteriously as my chi appeared when I practiced. “I can’t go on denying this. I do have feelings for you, and I can keep it all a secret from the apprentices, the guild, the entire world if need be—but not from you. Not anymore. Even if all we can have is me telling you how much I like you every chance I get for the rest of my life, that would be better than pretending to you I feel any different for another moment.”
Babette stopped punching and took a step backward, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Hofen. You are making it impossible for me to refuse.”
Thinking I had her, then, I prepared to close in for the kill, and my mouth opened to speak.
And then the tingling in my hands became a burning, searing surge of agony. I rubbed them together trying to ignore the distraction but that only made the burning worse, as though a thousand pins were jabbing into every pore. “What the—”
“Are you all right?” Babette stepped toward me reaching out, but by now everyone was watching, and she caught herself before she pulled my hands to hers. Instead, she pointed at them. “Why are your hands so red?”
Looking down, I could see she was right. My palms, fingers, fingertips, and thumbs had turned a bright crimson and itched unbearably, forcing me to rub and scratch them harder and harder. “The apacia sap wore off,” I said more to myself than anyone else, but Babette heard me.
“The what?”
Journeyman Wohl stood over me, staring at my hands. “What happened to you? An allergic reaction to something?”
My mouth opened and closed, torn between the desire to tear the skin off my hands and continue my conversation with Babette. I had been so close….
“Go see Master Voralius. He’ll know what to do.” Journeyman Wohl nudged me away from the class with a gentle shove. “Go on. You’re no use here like that.”
Tears of pain filled my eyes as I jammed my hands into my pockets and felt the cruse Master Voralius had given me earlier. “Oh,” I said aloud, wanting to smack myself in the head. With trembling fingers, I pulled it out and undid the stopper, then rubbed some into my fingers and palms. The relief was instantaneous. My hands became less inflamed and the swelling went down as I watched.